Post-Traumatic
by Luthien Luinwe
Summary: Arkham Knight Spoilers. Batman has uncovered the identity of the Arkham Knight and been reunited with Jason Todd, and is determined to help him get better. However, when things go south after Nightwing is exposed to Scarecrow's fear toxin, things quickly go from tense to horrific. Warning: Major Character Death. Other warnings listed in story.
1. Chapter 1: Reunion

**Hello everyone! This is my first Batman story. I am fairly new to the fandom, so I apologize for any errors in advance. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy.**

 **Warnings: Major Character Death, Mention of Past Rape, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Violence, Self-Destructive Behavior. I will add more if they become necessary.**

 **Chapter One: Reunion  
**

 **Jason**

He had lost. He had worked so hard for so long, imagined over and over again what it would be like when he finally ended Bruce Wayne, imagined the man begging, screaming for mercy, and Jason, out of what little kindness remained in his heart, would finally put him out of his misery. The plan had been working so beautifully. He had convinced himself that everything would work out fine, that by the end of the night, Batman would be no more.

And he had failed.

He sat in a crumpled heap on the floor, trying to keep what little of his sanity remained together. He barely registered Bruce speaking with Alfred via com-link. Alfred. He had to stop himself from laughing dryly. How long had it been until Alfred, always looking out for Bruce first, convinced Bruce to stop looking? Did it take him a day or an hour to get rid of all of Jason's things in the manor?

If it had been Dick, God if it had been Dick, things would have turned out so very differently.

"My God," he heard Alfred breathe. "Is he all right?"

"No," Bruce responded simply. "He's not."

Jason glared at the masked man standing only a few feet away from him. What right did he have to determine Jason's mental stability, his condition? He hadn't cared that year the Joker had him. Why did any of it matter now?

Though Jason wanted to struggle, to fight, when Bruce grabbed him, pulled him up, he didn't. He was weak, and he knew he stood no chance against the older man, the man who had trained him. It was over. He knew that. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to make the Bat drag him to his stupid little Batmobile.

He winced when Bruce forced his arms behind his back, binding them, before binding his legs as well, and he had to admit he was unsure if it was for the Bat's safety, or to keep him safe from himself.

And wouldn't that have been a perfect ending? Jason Todd, risen from the alleged grave, bringing some resemblance of hope to his once mentor turned enemy, only to send that hope crashing down with a well-placed bullet through his own head. "I hate you," he spat as Bruce pushed him into the car.

"I know," Bruce sighed, and Jason smirked recognizing the lack of attempt to disguise his own voice. But what point was there anymore? His identity as the feared Arkham Knight had been compromised. He knew who Batman truly was. There was no need for further lies, no need at all.

Jason leaned his head against the glass, staring out at the streets of Gotham, doubting he would see them again. The judicial system frowned upon individuals forming a milita and declaring war on a city. Even if the roads leading to Blackgate weren't pretty, he was determined to remember them, to remember the city lights reflecting off the dark pavement. Only… "This isn't the way to Blackgate," he frowned and turned to face the man he hated.

"We aren't going to Blackgate," Bruce responded, and Jason held a small sense of satisfaction in knowing the man couldn't even look at him.

"Then where the hell are we going?" he demanded.

"I'm taking you home," Bruce answered, and if Jason hadn't known better, he would have sworn he heard a hint of resignation in the man's tone.

Still, he could think of no place he would rather be less than at Wayne Manor. Well, no place other than the rooms underneath Arkham Asylum. No, he wouldn't let his mind wander back there. Never again. It was over, finally over, though it all could have ended so much earlier, so much smoother, if Bruce had done his job and found him.

"I'd rather go to Blackgate."

* * *

 **Dick**

"Nightwing, report in," Dick had to keep himself from groaning when he heard Batman's voice through his comlink. Couldn't the man let him fight crime for one night without checking on him? Couldn't he let things go back to the way they had been before Jason had disappeared? For God's sake, he wasn't the Boy Wonder anymore. He could take care of himself.

"Right here, Batman," he replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone, trying to have at least a little bit of empathy for his mentor. He knew Bruce meant well, that he didn't want Dick or Tim disappearing on him like Jason had, that he didn't want another unmarked video containing another protégé being shot by some lunatic. Still, he could have gone without the location trackers and vital sign monitors.

He scanned the area from his vantage point, glad that, at least for now, this sector was clear. The last thing he needed was to get into a scuffle while Bruce was on the line, giving Bruce another reason to worry, or worse, doubt him. And he absolutely hated the next words that he heard. "I need you back at the manor."

"Are you kidding me?" Dick demanded, this time unable to hide his annoyance. "Look, Batman, I know you're worried, but I've dealt with worse than Scarecrow and some militant goons hellbent on killing you…"

"Dick," Bruce tried to cut him off, but Dick was not going to let him, not that night, not anymore.

"Look, I'm not Jason, okay?" he snapped. "I know how to not get myself captured and killed." He regretted it as soon as he said it, but he was in no mood to apologize. Bruce had been a wreck after receiving that video, had blamed himself. He hadn't even told Nightwing until he showed up at Manor, broken and confused after a week from hell in Bludhaven. It had been a low blow, but he didn't care, at least not enough to deal with it then and there.

"Dick," Bruce tried again.

"No," Dick shook his head despite knowing Bruce couldn't see him, though he wasn't entirely sure that was true. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if he found out he and Tim had video monitors on them too. "No," he said. "I'm not going to run away from this like some little kid. I can handle this."

"Dick, I found Jason."

He froze and he blinked. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Clearly he had misheard. Or worse, Dick had forced him into yet another one of his surly bad moods. He took a long, deep breath before speaking again. "Look, I miss him as much as you do, okay?" he asked. "But you can't delude yourself into thinking…"

"He isn't dead," Bruce cut him off. "He's the one we've been chasing this whole time." Dick shook his head again, not wanting to believe it. If Jason had been alive, he wouldn't be doing this. He would have come back home, back to where he was safe and loved… He wouldn't be trying to kill them. But why would Bruce lie about something like this. 'I need you back at the manor so you can keep an eye on him. Something tells me he wouldn't react well if I had Robin do it."

He gritted his teeth, knowing he had to go back, knowing he had to see if Jason really was alive for himself. "Alright, whatever," he sighed and scanned the area, wanting to make sure it still had some resemblance of peace and calm about it before he left. "But I swear to God this had better not be some attempt to keep me out of trouble. Nightwing out."

Dick turned and studied the skyscrapers around him, trying to figure out the best way to get back to the manor.

He heard the gas release from the canister before he saw it start to snake up around him. "Well, fuck," he swore, and had just enough time to send out a distress signal before the gas took effect and the hallucinations set in.


	2. Chapter 2: Prettybird

**Trigger Warning: Mention of Suicide, Rape**

 **Chapter Two – Prettybird**

 **Bruce**

Bruce swore when he saw Nightwing's blue tracker turn a bright red. "Master Wayne," Alfred's voice came through. _Right on time,_ he thought as he abruptly changed the direction of the Batmobile, grateful for the time being that Jason was determined to keep his mouth shut. No doubt the boy would be upset about the detour. _I only stopped looking when I thought I saw him kill you,_ he thought. "Sorry to bother what I'm certain must be an… Emotional reunion, but Master Grayson has just sent off a distress signal."

"I know, Alfred," Bruce sighed and tried to focus on reaching the blinking dot. A bad feeling formed in the pit of his stomach when he realized the dot hadn't moved, not even slightly. "I'm on my way." He saw Jason roll his eyes, but ignored it. The kid could have as bad an attitude as he wanted; it wouldn't change anything.

"Very good, sir," Alfred replied. "Though I do suggest you hurry. His vitals are going off the charts."

 _Not good,_ he thought, still keeping his eyes more focused on his GPS than on the actual road, not like watching the road would matter anyway. Gotham had been evacuated. Only Jason and Scarecrow's men were left. Despite his better judgment, he checked the screen Alfred had sent him. _Blood pressure high. Heart rate astronomical. Low oxygen. Terrified of something._

" _Oh, come on now, Bats,"_ Bruce tried to ignore the Joker hallucination. He needed to focus. He needed to find Dick. _"You know what happened. The same thing happened to you. I wonder if he'll off himself just like poor Barbara?"_

Bruce wanted to shout, to tell the son of a bitch to leave him the hell alone. But he couldn't lose his cool in front of Jason. He couldn't let Jason know anything about the hallucinations, about the blood, about anything. The last thing he needed was to know that the man he hated was all but sharing a mind with the man who had tortured him.

" _Now, now,"_ Joker stretched back, rested his hands behind his head, and looked Jason over. _"I can only imagine how he must be feeling right now. You let him rot under Arkham for over a year, and yet you go after your precious little Nightwing not two minutes after you learn he's in trouble."_

He kept talking, but Bruce focused on tuning him out, a task that was far easier said than done. _Keep calm, Bruce,_ he thought as he drove. _The last thing you need is to lose control._

"So why is he back in town anyway?" Jason asked, and for a moment Bruce was certain it had been part of the hallucination. "Last I heard he was running around in Bludhaven."

Bruce thought about ignoring him, knowing that it wasn't his story to tell, but he knew that ignoring Jason would just make matters worse than they already were. No, for the time being, it would be best to keep him happy, or at least as close to happy as he could be. He sincerely hoped it was a good sign that Jason seemed to be at least a little concerned for his brother. "Showed up at the manor a few weeks after…" he trailed off, and Jason raised an eyebrow. "After I got the video of you being shot." He heard Jason's breath catch, but was impressed that he managed to otherwise stay calm. "His apartment building was blown up. Asked if he could stay with me for a few days until everything calmed down. A few days turned into a few weeks, and now here we are."

He watched as Jason turned away once more.

It was more than an explosion that had sent Dick back home. Bruce knew that, but he had never pressed the issue, figuring Dick would talk when he was ready. Though it had never happened. He had asked what had happened when he saw him at the doorstep. Dick had shrugged it off, saying it was nothing, and gone off to the Batcave to train.

He had been quiet. Eerily quiet, acting more like the enigmatic, brooding Batman than the carefree, light-hearted Nightwing.

Parental instincts had gotten the best of him, and he had gone to check on his son. He watched as Dick trained, noted his lack of balance, and had moved to correct him.

He would never forget how quickly, how violently Dick had jerked away from him. _"Don't touch me,"_ he had growled, actually growled, before storming out.

Weeks later, Dick was finally turning back into some resemblance of his old self, and Bruce was still trying to piece together what else had happened.

Once he had reached a reasonable distance to the distress signal, he pulled over and locked Jason in the car. The last thing he needed was the boy trying to escape while he was dealing with this, whatever _this_ would end up being.

He grappled onto the rooftop, and he froze.

He had expected blood, maybe an unconscious body or two, hell, even a gunshot. Having a strong suspicion fear gas had been used, he had been expecting screaming, panicking.

What he didn't expect was to find Nightwing curled onto his side in a tight ball, whimpering quietly, begging for whatever was happening to end.

* * *

 **Dick**

He could feel his escrima sticks digging into his back, could feel Blockbuster's blood, still warm, on his face. And he knew he could never tell Bruce what had happened. He had broken the code. He had stood to the side and let a man, however sick and twisted of a man, be killed. Bruce would hate him for it…

No. He shook his head, trying to clear it. That had been weeks ago. That had been before he found out about Jason's disappearance and death, before this night, this hell of a night. Blockbuster was gone. _She_ was gone. And he needed to focus on getting back to the manor, on getting back to Jason…

"No," he breathed and felt sick when he saw _her_ approaching him. She was supposed to be gone, supposed to still be in Bludhaven. He had left to avoid seeing _her_ again. Despite years of training, of knowing how to protect himself, he let her push him back onto the roof and pin him down. "You're not real," he tried to tell himself, his rational mind knowing it was just an effect of the fear toxin, nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

But she felt real enough.

" _Everything's all right, baby,"_ she said, running a hand down his chest, slicing his uniform open with her nail, the events of that night playing out all over again.

"Not real," he kept repeating, shutting his eyes tightly, hoping that would make her go away, hoping that anything would just make her go away.

" _Quiet, mi amor callado,"_ she whispered into his ear, covering his mouth with her hand.

He curled himself into a tight ball just as Jason's voice and face joined the party. " _You didn't look for me_ ," he said, his voice icy, full of nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred, and Dick felt even more sick. He hadn't known Jason was missing. Bruce hadn't told him. He had to find out about his death from some obituary weeks after it had happened. _"Why was it me and not you?"_ He tried to cry out when the Jason hallucination wrapped his hands around his neck, but no sound would come. _"He would have beaten down every door in the world to find you. He would have killed_ him _for taking you, for killing you."_

"Stop," Dick muttered weakly. "I'm sorry," he hated his voice, how weak and pathetic he sounded. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "Please just stop."

" _Quiet, mi amor,"_ his blood ran cold when he heard her voice once more, when he felt her fingers run through his hair.

"Nightwing?" he heard a familiar voice in the chaos, but was too far out of it to listen closely, to try to figure it out.

" _I'll take out the people you care about,"_ Blockbuster appeared and kicked him square in the ribs. _"Hell, even the strangers you stand next to on the street."_

"No," he muttered. "No, you're dead. We killed you. I saw you die. You aren't real."

A chill ran down his spine when the man laughed. _"You won't be able to shake someone's hand without marking them for death,"_ he smirked, kneeling beside him.

"It's not real, Dick," the familiar voice came through again.

" _Do you like being alone, Dick?"_

"It's not real," the voice came through once more, clearer this time. "Whatever you're seeing, none of it's real."

He shut his eyes even more tightly, and though he hated himself for it, knew he was shaking.

"Don't make me do this," the voice groaned.

"Not real," he tried to mutter to himself again.

" _Quiet mi amor callado…"_

The not-Jason stood over him once more, his boot on Dick's chest. " _It should have been you."_ He watched the second Robin's foot come up to kick him in the face, and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3: Hysteria

**Chapter Three – Hysteria**

 **Bruce**

Bruce grappled down from the rooftop, careful not to drop the unconscious Nightwing he held in his free arm. He hadn't punched the boy too hard, only enough to knock him out long enough to get him to the car. Still, he needed to be quick. The last thing he needed was for his first son to wake up in an even more panicked state.

He made it to the Batmobile in record time, and managed to gently lay the man down in the back seat. He hoped Dick would stay unconscious long enough for him to get them to the manor, but he doubted that would happen. He was too damn stubborn to stay down for long.

He got into the driver's seat, and was relieved to see that Jason was asleep, or at least pretending to be. With both of them quiet, he could focus on getting them to safety and get back to Tim, to get him out of that cell and back to the manor where he belonged, where he should have stayed. God it had been so much easier when he only had to worry about one of them, or at least only worry about one of them at a time.

' _And won't it be just wonderful when little Jason sees his replacement?'_ Joker laughed and studied the sleeping boy. _'My, I did have so much fun showing him that little picture of the two of you. He really believed you were coming for him until he saw that, you know?'_

Bruce shook his head, trying to clear it and focused on the road ahead. He knew it was going to be ugly when Jason finally met Tim face to face, but he could deal with that when the time came.

He flinched when he heard Jason whimper in his sleep, as the boy tried to curl up despite being restrained. God he hoped Dick would stay unconscious. He couldn't handle both of them losing their minds at the same time. He could barely handle it separately.

"Alfred," he reached out through the comms once he got closer to the manor. "Change of plans. I need you to keep a close eye on Jason and Dick. We're headed to the manor now."

"Master Grayson is well, then?" Alfred asked, and Bruce had to smile slightly at the tone of relief he heard in the man's voice. No doubt he had been just as worried as Bruce had been, if not more.

"I don't know that I'd say he's well," Bruce responded carefully, not wanting to go into specifics. That could wait until they were face to face, until he could get to work on a new antidote for Scarecrow's fear toxin. "I need you to make sure they don't kill each other. Or themselves."

He killed the transmission before Alfred could respond, not wanting to risk one of his passengers screaming and being overheard. Alfred had gone through enough stress in his life. He didn't need this added onto it.

Bruce sighed when he saw Jason becoming more and more distressed. "No, please!" he begged, his voice reminding the man of just how young his second Robin was, how young all his Robins were. "Please," he whimpered, still not waking. "Please, I'll tell you everything. Please just stop!"

Despite his years of training, Bruce was unable to keep himself from flinching when Jason screamed in his sleep. It had been something horrible, something inhuman.

The Joker hallucination smirked and leaned back, looking Jason over once more. _"My, he was such a fun toy."_

He was about to snap at the madman, not caring about the passengers in the car, but before he could open his mouth, he heard a scream coming from the backseat. _God dammit, Dick,_ he sighed in frustration.

"Stop!" the newly conscious Nightwing screamed. "You have to stop them! He messed with the ropes. Stop them!"

One thing was for sure. It was going to be a _long_ drive home.

* * *

 **Jason**

" _Can I have him, Daddy? Oh please, please, please, please?" Joker taunted, waving the brand in his hand in front of Jason's face. "I'll take real good care of him." He felt his heart sink down to his stomach. "Anything to make you happy, Princess," the madman continued, changing his voice to something deeper, more sinister. "Just make sure people know he's yours." He fell to the ground with a sickening thud. "We don't want him to end up back here do we?"_

Jason woke up screaming, and it took him several long minutes to realize where he was. _You aren't back there,_ he told himself. _You aren't back there. No, you're stuck in here. Stuck with_ him. And that, he thought, was almost just as bad. It had hurt, realizing Batman didn't give a damn about him, realizing he wasn't going to be rescued. And now here he was, stuck in the damn Batmobile with the damn Batman and his precious little Nightwing. Bruce hadn't missed a beat going to save him from whatever the hell had happened.

No, even after all that time, he was still playing second fiddle to Dick motherfucking Grayson.

"You have to stop them!" Jason flinched when he heard Dick scream. He had never known the older man to lose control, not even once, and he would have been lying if he said it didn't unnerve him. Still, he couldn't help but smirk when he saw Batman flinch.

 _He would have come for Dick,_ the voice in the back of his head told him, the voice he had tried to shut up so, so many times. _He would have found him the same day he disappeared. But not you. No, he let you rot there. He let_ him _have you._

Jason flinched again when he heard Dick whimper pathetically, like a kicked puppy. _'Can I have him, Daddy?'_ He heard Joker's maniacal laughter once more. _'Please, please, please, please?'_

He laughed when he saw Batman flinch again. No doubt the man was worried sick about the first Robin, the favorite, the Golden Boy Wonder. _You've been doing this all wrong, Jason,_ the voice in his head said, and for a moment he was unsure if it was his own, or the Joker's. _You've been going after him. He doesn't give a damn what happens to him. You need to hit him where it hurts.'_

He wasn't quite sure when the laughing had started. He wasn't quite sure when it had turned hysterical. And he definitely was not sure when the hysterical laugh changed into violent, uncontrollable sobbing.


	4. Chapter 4: Trauma

**Chapter Four: Trauma**

 **Bruce**

Between Dick's screaming and Jason's sobbing, Bruce couldn't help but think they were all lucky to have made it back to Wayne Manor in one piece. He sighed deeply and looked the two over. Dick had transitioned back into whimpering and begging. Jason had finally calmed down enough to at least look somewhat sane. "I can't drag both of you in," he said to Jason, who barely glanced back over at him. "If I cut you loose, are you going to run?" He shook his head, but didn't say anything. "Are you going to hurt anyone?" he shook his head again.

Deciding to trust the boy, and doubting that in his mental state Jason could do much damage anyway, Bruce cut him loose. _Keep an eye on him,_ he thought as he got out of the driver's seat and reached into the back. _I'll take the sane violent man over the insane one any day._ And Jason was anything _but_ sane.

Dick flinched away when Bruce tried to help him out of the car, but was eventually coaxed out. _What the hell happened to you?_ He thought as he half-dragged his first Robin into the manor, making sure to never let Jason out of his eyesight. Hopefully Alfred could get a fear toxin antidote made, and quickly. He knew things would only get worse when the no doubt still pissed off Tim joined the party.

"Ah, Master Wayne," Alfred smiled politely and held the door open. Bruce could have sworn he saw worry in the man's eyes. "I've set up an area in the living room for Master Grayson." Bruce watched as Alfred turned to Jason, who had not yet made eye-contact or said anything to him. "It's good to see you alive, Master Todd," he added before leading the trio back.

Bruce set, well, more dropped, Dick onto the couch and watched as Jason slumped into a nearby chair, crossing his arms as he did so. "Shall I fetch them both a change of clothes?" Alfred asked.

Bruce shook his head in response. "I can handle it," he said and headed upstairs. He needed to get back in the field, needed to track down Scarecrow and end this madness, but he needed to clear his head, at least a little, before going back. Distraction would get him killed. It would get all of them killed.

He went into the room Dick had been staying in and opened the drawers, grabbing two pairs of sweatpants and two t-shirts. They would be too big on Jason, but they would fit better than any of Bruce's things, and Tim's would be too tight.

He glanced at the open bathroom door, and against his better judgment, walked in. He opened the medicine cabinet, half-hoping and half-dreading he'd find what he suspected would be there. He grabbed one of the orange bottles and checked the label. _'Grayson, Richard. Diazepam 10 mg. Take one tablet three times a day for 30 days, then as needed for anxiety with or without food. Refills remaining: 1.'_

He opened the bottle, shook four tablets into his hand, and headed back to the living room, stopping in the kitchen to get two glasses of water. Jason was still slumped in the chair, arms crossed, glaring at Dick, who was still shaking and whimpering. "Here," Bruce said, handing Jason the change of clothes, one of the glasses of water, and two of the tablets.

"You're insane if you think I'm taking anything you give me," Jason said, his voice dull. Bruce wasn't sure if he preferred that to the anger he'd been hearing.

"Suit yourself, then," Bruce responded and approached Alfred, who was trying in vain to get a blood sample from Dick. "If he calms down enough to reason with, have him take these," he handed the remaining tablets and water to the butler. "If you have to knock him out with something, do it."

"Understood, sir," Alfred nodded and set the items to the side.

"And if you can do it, get him out of that uniform," Bruce added. "He's done for the night." He didn't wait for a reply before turning and leaving. Those two were in good hands, and he was confident Alfred wouldn't let a thing happen to either of them.

No, now he needed to focus on keeping Tim safe and on defeating Scarecrow before it was too late.

* * *

 **Jason**

He needed Dick to calm down and take his meds, and he needed Alfred to leave. If those two things were to happen, however unlikely they may have been, then he would have a shot at really getting to Bruce. He wasn't confident he could get himself and Dick out of the manor without Alfred noticing, but he was confident he could keep the man from stopping them.

Bruce had checked him over pretty well, but Jason still had some tricks, and weapons, up his sleeve. Alfred wouldn't risk Dick's safety, and Jason knew it. A well-placed gun to the head or knife to the throat, and they would be out of there in no time.

He wasn't completely stupid, though. Dick was a better fighter, and he knew it. But if he took his meds, twice the regular dose if memory served him, he would be too delirious to fight back. And wouldn't it be so much fun to see how fast the Batman went after his first sidekick?

Wouldn't it be even more fun if the Bat was too late?

He had to keep himself from smirking. Alfred was already on-edge enough with his sudden reappearance, and with the knowledge of who he had become, and he had to play everything safe for once in his life. _If you'd have played it safe in the first place, you wouldn't be in this mess. Joker never would have caught you, and you'd still be living it up as the Boy Wonder._

God, though, the whimpering coming from his once-friend was driving him more insane than he already was. _How much of that shit did you inhale?_ he wondered, and couldn't help but flinch when he saw the other man jerk away from Alfred.

"Don't touch me," he had muttered. "I'm poison."

Jason had to admit he was a little bit impressed. Had it been another person, the stress from the fear toxin surely would have killed them by that point. He was impressed that Alfred was still standing on top of everything that had happened. Dick had been trying to push him away, however half-heartedly, for at least fifteen minutes.

Granted, Jason thought, he himself had lasted over a year being tortured by the Joker. _He would have rescued you the same day you disappeared._

"I'm afraid you leave me no other choice, Master Grayson," Jason smirked when he heard Alfred speak, and had to hold back a laugh when he saw the man shove a syringe into the side of Dick's neck. _He actually did it,_ he thought. _He actually drugged him._ "There," he nodded approvingly, and Jason listened as Dick's breathing turned from panicked and shallow to deep and even.

He just needed Alfred to leave.

"I would make yourself comfortable, Master Todd," the butler said without turning to face him. _Really?_ he thought. _After all those lectures you gave me about looking at the person you're speaking to?_ "Given recent circumstances, I won't be leaving either of you alone tonight. Especially now that the big secret's been revealed."

He felt his blood run cold. _"Hey. I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big bad bat? His name. Tell me!"_

Jason glanced at the tablets, wondering if they'd at least make his mind shut up for a few hours. _No,_ he shook his head. He couldn't do that. He needed to stay alert, needed to wait for an opening to grab Dick and run.

 _And won't that hurt, Bruce?_ He thought, trying to keep the nervous laughter threatening to start up again at bay. _Won't it hurt knowing that I took him from you and you couldn't do a damn thing?_

He glanced over at the man who he had once thought of as a brother, and now saw only as an opportunity for revenge. _Sleep well, prettyboy,_ he thought. _If you survive what I'm going to put you through, you'll never sleep well again._


	5. Chapter 5: Delirium

**Chapter Five – Delirium**

 **Dick**

Everything had gone dark. His tongue felt fuzzy. His limbs were heavy. His thoughts were swimming. And _fuck_ his head hurt. What the hell had happened? He tried to remember, but everything was shimmery.

He was up high, somewhere. Up high watching.

Up high watching and they were falling and there wasn't a net and their bodies were crumpled and broken and bloody and bruised and they weren't moving and he couldn't breathe and …

No.

Rooftop. He had been on a rooftop. And it was cold.

It was cold and it was raining and he was in shock and he couldn't move and there was blood on his uniform that was never going to come out no matter how many times he washed it and _it's all right baby._

No. Wrong rooftop. Wrong city.

He couldn't wait to get his hands on whoever the hell had knocked him out the first time. He owed them a damn good concussion, that was for sure.

He remembered being in the Batmobile. He remembered Alfred trying to calm him down, but Alfred kept disappearing, replaced by the madman who'd been hell-bent on destroying his life and damn near succeeded.

Something sharp had stuck him in the neck, and he couldn't move, and he was tired, and it was cold and _it's all right baby._

He tried to move, but his limbs were like lead. He wished he could clear his head. If he could just clear his head, then he could figure out where the hell he was and what the hell was going on. He had registered familiar voices. _If you have to knock him out with something, do it._ But it hadn't been threatening. He knew that voice. Knew that he was at least relatively safe when near it.

So why the hell would he want Dick to be knocked out?

Someone was shaking him, shaking his shoulder, and Dick wasn't sure if it was a friend or a foe, not that it would matter. He was in no state to fight. He was in no state to be anything other than even half-awake.

 _It's okay_ he thought he heard a voice say. _Just getting you out of here._ God it seemed so far away, but familiar? Was he dead? He was pretty sure that voice belonged to a dead man. Was he dying and whoever the hell controlled their mad lives thought this was funny?

Because of course Jason was dead. Dick had seen the video, even if Bruce hadn't wanted him to. Even though he'd had to sneak into the Batcave while Bruce was on patrol. Even though he'd found the video by accident because Bruce had forgotten to destroy it. _Never could stand a tattle tale,_ he heard a cackle and a bang and he knew it should have been him and _Jason is dead and it's all your fault._ Bruce told him not to think like that, to never think like that, but he couldn't help it.

 _Master Todd, what in God's name are you doing?_ Alfred. Definitely Alfred. Was Alfred dead too? Man, that would suck. What would Bruce do without him?

He felt something sharp at his throat, familiar, but couldn't quite register it, not when he was still barely conscious and everything was incoherent at best.

 _What I should have been doing from the start._

One of Dick's gloves had been ripped off, and he thought he felt something cold being pressed under his palm, something cold and familiar and _Access granted. Security clearance: high. Welcome, Nightwing._ And they were moving, moving too fast to be walking.

God, he hadn't had dreams this vivid since he was a kid. And he hadn't dreamt about Jason in weeks. Granted, he hadn't exactly been sleeping too much the past several weeks.

He was drifting in and out of consciousness, not really sure what was going on around him, or where he was going. _Being taken,_ the quiet, rational part of his mind tried to argue with him. He thought he smelled blood and gunpowder, but that was insane because he had been on a rooftop and it had been raining, and he was cold, and her hands were all over him even though he wanted them gone, even though he wanted her gone, even though he told her not to touch him.

He winced when he felt a sharp, pointy object prick his neck again. _Don't worry, Big Wing,_ the dead man's voice sounded so very far away. Maybe he wasn't dying? Maybe he wasn't going to the light after all. _I'll make the bad things go away._

And he felt like he could breathe again, but he couldn't wake up and he couldn't move and he needed to know where the hell he was dammit because there was a madman on the loose and Bruce might as well have been marching off to his own death and…

 _Whack._

The blow forced him back into a clearer state of mind, forced him awake because _damn_ that had hurt. And it had been solid. And definitely hadn't been imagined, at least he was fairly certain of that.

He felt sick when he opened his eyes and saw Jason smirking at him, an angry, scarred "J" on his cheek. _No. You're dead. You're dead. We saw you die._

He shut his eyes again, hoping it was all just one bad dream because _I miss him as much as you do, but he's gone, Bruce. He's dead and he isn't coming back._

 _Whack._

He cried out that time, and made a mental note to thank Bruce for forcing him to switch from lyrcra to Kevlar after Jason had gotten shot… _He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. Open your eyes and wake the hell up._

He opened his eyes, slowly that time, deliberately, wanting to make sure he really was awake that time.

And when he saw the crowbar come back down, he wished he had just been asleep after all.


End file.
